Hi all, I’m pretty excited. I’m going to Europe, more specifically London and Venice to see ten operas in two weeks. Really, the entire trip has been planned around Benjamin Britten's Death in Venice. It is based on Thomas Mann’s novel of the same name, set in the Hotel des Bains on the Lido. I’ll be staying at the Hotel for one night. A few days later, I’ll attend a study day at the National Gallery in London for the opera, followed by a performance at the English National Opera. Some fun!
I’ll tell you all about it on my return. Cheers for now. Valery
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
My Heroes: Parents of Music Students
When I began teaching music (OK, OK, it was the middle of the last century, if you want to pin it down), parents dropped off the kid at the lesson and went shopping. Then, I became a Suzuki teacher and the parents were expected to stay in the room, silently take notes and practice at home with the child, trying to do things exactly as the teacher did at the lesson. This was totally traumatizing to me as a young teacher, completely insecure about how to handle being watched as I taught. We have evolved far beyond that point now and the presence and role of the parent is desired, recognized and celebrated.
Just as the understanding of how children learn has developed in the past thirty years, so has our understanding of the role parents play in their child’s development as a musician. That silent witness thing certainly worked better than not having the parents at the lesson at all. Yet the weakness of this model showed up most clearly to me at lessons where the parent seemed to be disrupting the lesson constantly, either with too many questions or with inappropriate comments.
The opening phase of the lesson was for the teacher to bow with the child, indicating that now no irrelevant conversation was to take place between teacher and parent. The lesson has begun and the entire focus is on the child’s learning. But it began to dawn on me that parents were feeling left out of the process and they needed inclusion and recognition as being there and alive and contributing. So I began to include the parent in the bow and to say to the child that the bow was to acknowledge respect and thanks for everyone involved in helping the student learn (including the child’s efforts). The more I acknowledged the contribution of the parent during the lesson, the less disruptive anyone became.
I began to see that celebrating a child’s victory over some task was enhanced when we included the parent’s contribution in helping the child achieve it. I look on it as engendering the child’s awareness of how much the teamwork is part of the process. Not only is it good for mom’s (or whoever the practicing person is) self-esteem, it allows the child to see that others respect and value mom as well.
Parents do so much for their children all the time and in every dimension. Apart from the obvious duties to provide food, shelter and clothing, the loving, generous nature of parents prompts them to make every effort to provide additional experiences such as music lessons and sport. They provide money, time, energy and, most of all commitment.
We weren’t too far along in the phase of lessons for my children when I realized that if we had not had a good practicing week, it was never because my kids were reluctant to practice. It was because I had not made the effort to create the practice time (at that stage, the kids were too small to be expected to go and practice without my presence). Over time, it dawned on me that in order for a child to develop the habit of perseverance (another name for self-discipline), that habit had to be modeled for them. If i wanted them to learn to do something every single day, I had to make it happen every single day for them. Heavy, man (as they say).
Every time I witness the results of this dedication on the part of the parents, I become slightly weak in the knees with admiration and gratitude. Learning how to play the piano is a multi-year (one could even say, life-long) process. It takes time, focus, repetition and training to develop the mental and physical skills that permit the rapid responses to execute the navigation of the keyboard and then to go beyond that to create the magic of an emotional experience that music so readily elicits. Parents create the environment for the children, practice with them, take them to lessons, pay lots of money, nurture, love and support through thick and thin so that the children can say, ultimately, “I did it all myself”. Funny thing is, the parents are totally thrilled!
That is why parents of music students are my heroes.
Just as the understanding of how children learn has developed in the past thirty years, so has our understanding of the role parents play in their child’s development as a musician. That silent witness thing certainly worked better than not having the parents at the lesson at all. Yet the weakness of this model showed up most clearly to me at lessons where the parent seemed to be disrupting the lesson constantly, either with too many questions or with inappropriate comments.
The opening phase of the lesson was for the teacher to bow with the child, indicating that now no irrelevant conversation was to take place between teacher and parent. The lesson has begun and the entire focus is on the child’s learning. But it began to dawn on me that parents were feeling left out of the process and they needed inclusion and recognition as being there and alive and contributing. So I began to include the parent in the bow and to say to the child that the bow was to acknowledge respect and thanks for everyone involved in helping the student learn (including the child’s efforts). The more I acknowledged the contribution of the parent during the lesson, the less disruptive anyone became.
I began to see that celebrating a child’s victory over some task was enhanced when we included the parent’s contribution in helping the child achieve it. I look on it as engendering the child’s awareness of how much the teamwork is part of the process. Not only is it good for mom’s (or whoever the practicing person is) self-esteem, it allows the child to see that others respect and value mom as well.
Parents do so much for their children all the time and in every dimension. Apart from the obvious duties to provide food, shelter and clothing, the loving, generous nature of parents prompts them to make every effort to provide additional experiences such as music lessons and sport. They provide money, time, energy and, most of all commitment.
We weren’t too far along in the phase of lessons for my children when I realized that if we had not had a good practicing week, it was never because my kids were reluctant to practice. It was because I had not made the effort to create the practice time (at that stage, the kids were too small to be expected to go and practice without my presence). Over time, it dawned on me that in order for a child to develop the habit of perseverance (another name for self-discipline), that habit had to be modeled for them. If i wanted them to learn to do something every single day, I had to make it happen every single day for them. Heavy, man (as they say).
Every time I witness the results of this dedication on the part of the parents, I become slightly weak in the knees with admiration and gratitude. Learning how to play the piano is a multi-year (one could even say, life-long) process. It takes time, focus, repetition and training to develop the mental and physical skills that permit the rapid responses to execute the navigation of the keyboard and then to go beyond that to create the magic of an emotional experience that music so readily elicits. Parents create the environment for the children, practice with them, take them to lessons, pay lots of money, nurture, love and support through thick and thin so that the children can say, ultimately, “I did it all myself”. Funny thing is, the parents are totally thrilled!
That is why parents of music students are my heroes.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
My Heroes: Private Music Teachers
When I do workshops for my colleagues, the response is usually terrific. The kids are inspired, they are pleased with their performances and my response to them, and the teachers tell me it is a wonderful experience for everyone.
Hearing the students of my colleagues perform the music they have learned and being in a position to comment about their accomplishment is a great privilege and carries with it a tremendous responsibility to do no harm.
As a teacher, I know how vulnerable my own ego is if anyone else is going to evaluate my students. Only I can know how much each one is trying his or her best, how much I care for them and how proud I am of their efforts. No one else can possibly know the background, family and/or musical, of that student, and what challenges that child faces on a daily basis. Every step of progress is a victory for them and me, regardless of how it seems to the outside world. Therefore, to let some outsider have the possibility of seeing only the snapshot of that moment and to judge it from their own point of view, is a risk that a teacher needs to be confident of taking.
We all know that a careless comment can not only wound but scar for years, if not life. Further, those comments can destroy the relationship between the teacher, student and parent. It is not unknown for students to quit the teacher and even music altogether after a negative, relatively public humiliation.
Explicitly stated to the teachers ahead of the event, my only goal is to enhance the relationship between the home teacher, the student and the parents. My ego has no place at a workshop: the experience is definitely not about me. My job is to help the group celebrate their accomplishment and what a joy that is!
We teachers of Mastering the Piano believe in teamwork and that each part of the team is necessary and valuable. It takes the contribution of all to cause any progress in learning for the student.
It is the home teacher, though, who sets the tone and provides the impetus for learning and my admiration for my teacher colleagues is limitless. They are the ones on the ground forty or so weeks a year, often for up to fifteen years with some students. They are the ones planning a long-term trajectory for each student, a year-long goal and each weekly lesson. They are the ones listening to the no-practicing excuses, being exposed to whatever virus is raging through the schools, lending a sympathetic ear to the loss of a pet, and being a cheering section for the victories, musical and personal. They are the ones constantly learning and growing, paying to go to workshops and conferences, spending huge amounts of money to buy new and exciting materials for the kids. They are the ones who can compartmentalize their own challenges in order to be fully present for each lesson of the many students they teach each week.
They are my heroes.
Hearing the students of my colleagues perform the music they have learned and being in a position to comment about their accomplishment is a great privilege and carries with it a tremendous responsibility to do no harm.
As a teacher, I know how vulnerable my own ego is if anyone else is going to evaluate my students. Only I can know how much each one is trying his or her best, how much I care for them and how proud I am of their efforts. No one else can possibly know the background, family and/or musical, of that student, and what challenges that child faces on a daily basis. Every step of progress is a victory for them and me, regardless of how it seems to the outside world. Therefore, to let some outsider have the possibility of seeing only the snapshot of that moment and to judge it from their own point of view, is a risk that a teacher needs to be confident of taking.
We all know that a careless comment can not only wound but scar for years, if not life. Further, those comments can destroy the relationship between the teacher, student and parent. It is not unknown for students to quit the teacher and even music altogether after a negative, relatively public humiliation.
Explicitly stated to the teachers ahead of the event, my only goal is to enhance the relationship between the home teacher, the student and the parents. My ego has no place at a workshop: the experience is definitely not about me. My job is to help the group celebrate their accomplishment and what a joy that is!
We teachers of Mastering the Piano believe in teamwork and that each part of the team is necessary and valuable. It takes the contribution of all to cause any progress in learning for the student.
It is the home teacher, though, who sets the tone and provides the impetus for learning and my admiration for my teacher colleagues is limitless. They are the ones on the ground forty or so weeks a year, often for up to fifteen years with some students. They are the ones planning a long-term trajectory for each student, a year-long goal and each weekly lesson. They are the ones listening to the no-practicing excuses, being exposed to whatever virus is raging through the schools, lending a sympathetic ear to the loss of a pet, and being a cheering section for the victories, musical and personal. They are the ones constantly learning and growing, paying to go to workshops and conferences, spending huge amounts of money to buy new and exciting materials for the kids. They are the ones who can compartmentalize their own challenges in order to be fully present for each lesson of the many students they teach each week.
They are my heroes.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
94 and 4
94 and 4! A few weeks ago, I witnessed the most powerful and wonderful interaction between my 94-year-old mother and 4-year-old grandson. Giggles and laughter filled the room, and the pleasure and delight were obviously mutual. It was truly a demonstration of communication at its best – when each listens attentively to the other, responds appropriately and enthusiastically and does not interrupt or try to change the other’s perception.
Yes, they enjoyed being silly together, but in case you are thinking that a 94-year-old often becomes like a child, in this instance, you are wrong. My mother is mentally as keen as you and I. Unlike most of us busy and preoccupied adults, it was my mother’s ability to focus completely on her great-grandson that made the connection genuine and special. When he was being silly, with a smile on her face, she told him without implied judgment, “You are silly.” He laughed even more and was thrilled to discover that it was okay, even fun, to have someone else enjoy his silliness. What a change from the usual adult admonition: “Stop acting so silly!” And so the play went on with unabashed enthusiasm and unbounded glee.
Although ten years shy of a century separates them in age, there was no difference in how they felt as human beings. They were two individuals who clearly enjoyed being together, respected each other and generated reciprocal positive energy. People are people regardless of age. The need for human connection does not diminish over the years. We all need to be validated, and we all thrive when someone else gives us undivided attention and unconditional acceptance.
Yes, they enjoyed being silly together, but in case you are thinking that a 94-year-old often becomes like a child, in this instance, you are wrong. My mother is mentally as keen as you and I. Unlike most of us busy and preoccupied adults, it was my mother’s ability to focus completely on her great-grandson that made the connection genuine and special. When he was being silly, with a smile on her face, she told him without implied judgment, “You are silly.” He laughed even more and was thrilled to discover that it was okay, even fun, to have someone else enjoy his silliness. What a change from the usual adult admonition: “Stop acting so silly!” And so the play went on with unabashed enthusiasm and unbounded glee.
Although ten years shy of a century separates them in age, there was no difference in how they felt as human beings. They were two individuals who clearly enjoyed being together, respected each other and generated reciprocal positive energy. People are people regardless of age. The need for human connection does not diminish over the years. We all need to be validated, and we all thrive when someone else gives us undivided attention and unconditional acceptance.
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